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Wednesday, February 14, 2018

Janet lane Walters was born in Wilkensburg, Pa July
17, 1936 reported to be the hottest day of the summer. She has been a published
author since 1968 beginning with short stories and moving into novels when an
editor told her a short story sounded like a synopsis for a novel. In the 197os
and 1980s she published 4 sweet nurse romance novels. Then she returned to
school to earn a BS in Nursing and a BA in English. Returning to work as a
nurse to help put four children through college she put her writing career on
hold. In 1993 she retired from nursing and began writing again. A new nurse
romance followed in print. Then she discovered electronic publishing and since
1998 has been electronically published.

Janet calls herself an eclectic writer since she moved from genre to genre.
There are mysteries featuring Katheine Miller a former nurse who seems to
stumble over bodies wherever she goes. Using her interest in Astrology, she ahs
several series that use Astrology as a premise for the stories. Once she earned
enough money to travel to Ireland by casting charts for people. She has many
books in the romance genre, some of them are contemporary and are nurse
romance, others fall into the fantasy or paranormal forms of romance.
Interested in reincarnation, she has used this as a jumping point for at least
two novels. Two of her novels deal with alternate worlds using a love affair
with Ancient Egypt.

Under her other name J.L. Walters she has written a YA fantasy series called
Affinities. She has also written a non-fiction book when her co-author Jane
Toombs that won the EPIC Award in 2003 for best Non-fiction. During her career
she has received other awards and has a number of great reviews.

Besides her four adult children, she has seven grandchildren. Five of them are
the models for the YA series. The other two arrived too late to play a large
role in the series. Four of her grandchildren are bi-racial and 3 are chinese
so the eclectic even invades her family. She has been married to the same man
for more than 50 years. He's a psychiatrist who refuses to cure her obsession
for writing.

A funny thing
happened on my way to publish my first novel. I had sent a short story to an
editor who had purchased several others. Her response set me off to do some
research. "Your story sounds like the synopsis for a novel." I had
mastered short stories and had no intention of writing a novel. Two things
intervened. The short story market was dwindling with fewer magazines printing
short stories. The second was the challenge. Could I write a novel? My shortstories were short between two thousand and five thousand words. A novel was a
lot longer. I went to the library and took out every book I could find about
writing novels and sat down to read. The first bit of advice was "Write
what you know." Though the short story had been a mystery, I felt writing
one was too complicated, so I looked for another idea. I knew about nurses,
doctors andhospitals. I also knew romance might be something to try so I sat
down and planned and plotted. Pages of character development. Searching for the
perfect settings. Visiting a small town to get a feel for the location.

Finally, New Nurse
In Town was born. The heroine needed to get away. She had caught her fiancé in
bed with another woman. Though he tried to assure her this meant nothing, she
was crushed, and she runs to the town where her brother lives. There she meets
the local doctor and applies for a job at the clinic. Ibegan the book in 1969
and felt confident that I had written a great book. Weren't my short stories
bought almost as soon as they were written. Wrong. But I learned. The book was
finally published in 1972. There may be copies, other than the ones on my
shelf, floating around.

As you can see,
I've been published for a long time. Fifty years ago, things were different
from today. At the time I began, both magazine and book publishers abounded.
Then the short story market dried up, unless you wrote literary stories and
could be published by a university press. When I began submitting my novels,
there were dozens of book publishers. Some only published hardcover books and
the others published paperbacks. Now the number has dwindled and changed.
There are print only, print and eBook, publishers and eBook only. When I began,
there was something that really helped me hone my writing skills. The editors
wanted the whole manuscript. The editors often made comments all over your
manuscript or put words of advice in the rejectionletter. New Nurse in Town
was rejected many times, but the comments came back, such as "Your
characters are acting in vacuum." "Your characters sound the same.
Where are their voices?" There's a weakness in your plot line."
"Revise, revise, revise." All of these suggestions helped immensely
and finallythe first book became published. A version was published in England
and it was also serialized in a newspaper. All in all, these past 50 years have
been an adventure, alone, with friends and with the characters in my books.

Tuesday, February 13, 2018

My husband experienced a scam I hadn't heard of so I thought I'd share info about it in case it happened to any of you.He turned on his computer and a loud voice said "Your computer has been locked and blocked. Do not turn it off or you could be exposed to id fraud and virus. Call this number right away.He immediately called that number and someone answered and helped him unlock the computer and explained that he had been hacked and about the number of virus that had infected the computer, but they would clean it up for him. However he had to purchase one of three plans, immediately before they could start work. The plans were 1-2 and lifetime and went from $400 - $700. It was with American Geek.I told my husband to tell them no and hang up, and searched American Geek and it immediately came up tech scam.Here's some of the information it said.

One easy way to quickly detect a Windows tech support scam is to look at
the domain name that appears in the address bar of your browser. If you're
being told that Microsoft has found a problem on your computer and the address
says something confusing like originifitsnormalpro.xys, you can be pretty sure
someone's trying to scam you.

When the scammers go full screen on you things get a
little more complicated. At first glance, everything seems legit: the browser
has that reassuring green button at the left that indicates the web page is
secure and belongs to Microsoft. The address bar reads support.microsoft.com.
The scary alert pop-up even shows "https://support.microsoft.com/
says:" at the top.

It's a full-screen webpage that's pretending
to be a browser. Like other tech support scams, this one does its
best to convince you that there's really something wrong with your computer.
The alert assaults users with warnings about very real malware.

And just like a good late night "as seen on
TV" pitch, the scammers try to create a sense of urgency. They tell you
that your computer will be locked and blocked from the network "to prevent
further damage." To make sure you feel compelled to take action, they ask
that you call in the next five minutes... just like the Sham-Wow
guy so famously did.

Sunday, February 11, 2018

I’m having a few challenges with my blog, so I hope
you’ll hang in there with me. You think you have everything under control and
then life comes up and smacks you down.

I lost one of my Shiba’s this past week, my best friend
for sixteen years. It’s an extremely difficult thing losing a family member as
I’m sure many of you know. And Thursday my guest blogger didn’t show up.

Not so long ago, we
were waiting for Apple
to smash through the ceiling to become the first $1Tn company. That may still happen, but
there was a brief wobble asiPhone sales dropped from 78.2 to 77.3 million in the last
quarter of 2017, though revenue of $88bn with an eye-watering $20bn profit
is still pretty extraordinary. Amazon,
meanwhile, on sales of $60bn, made a profit of “only” $1.9bn, though this was double their previous high and
the first time they’ve broken through $1bn. I took home several messages from
these figures (how very
different the business models are, for example), but the main
one for us as indies is salutory and it is this: we are a tiny tiny part of the pie
for these behemoths, and when we start talking about flexing our muscle
when we don’t like changes, that’s what we need to remember. And talking of big
moves and big numbers, Facebook‘s
drive to reduce the time we spend there seems to be paying off, with a reported
2.14% drop in time spent on the site – which equates to 184 million daily US
users, down from 185 million.

Thursday, February 1, 2018

Book Buyers Best finalist Kathleen Rowland is devoted
to giving her readers fast-paced, high-stakes suspense with an erotic love
story sure to melt their hearts.Her
latest release is One Night in Havana, #34 in the City Nights series.

Kathleen also has a steamy romantic suspense series
with Tirgearr Publishing, Deadly Alliance
is followed by Unholy Alliance. Keep
an icy drink handy while reading these sizzling stories.

Kathleen used to write computer programs but now
writes novels.She grew up in Iowa
where she caught lightning bugs, ran barefoot, and raced her sailboat on Lake
Okoboji.Now she wears flip-flops and
sails with her husband, Gerry, on Newport Harbor but wishes there were
lightning bugs in California.

Kathleen exists happily with her witty CPA husband,
Gerry, in their 70’s poolside retreat in Southern California where she adores
time spent with visiting grandchildren, dogs, one bunny, and noisy
neighbors.While proud of their five
children who’ve flown the coop, she appreciates the luxury of time to write.

Character
Interview from One Night in Havana

What’s your
name?

Veronica Keane, but family and friends call me Roni.

Where
did you grow up?

New York City

During
what time-period does your story take place?

Today.What’s
your story/back story?

You might say I’m a parent-pleaser, but what
only child isn’t? My dream is to continue my late father’s research for the
octopus’ nervous system by winning the grant at Cephalopod conference in
Havana. I’d gain my mother’s respect, but she’d be even more ecstatic if I settled
into a marriage and had children.

Why
would someone come up with a story about you?

I only appear to be living an opulent
lifestyle. Frustration is building. Except for research, my existence is
sterile.What’s your goal in this story?Will I ever love a man enough to want to be
with him for twenty-four hours? After that day is over, will a longing to be
together follow or will I go back to my passionless life?What conflicts are you facing?

I meet my competitor for the grant, Dr. Carlos
Montoya. He’s smart, funny, and as ironic as it is, our research
intersects.After a couple of hours of
talking and loving, I’ve met my soulmate. He’s a communist. I love my country.

Do
you have a plan for resolving them?

What can star-crossed lovers do? Just when I
met the love of my life, we’ll have to go our separate ways. How can I make the
dream to be with this vibrant man come true?confroIs there anything else you’d like us to know about you?

In spite of the fact Carlos is prideful and somewhat confrontational, I bring out thebest in him. He needs a pushy New
Yorker like me. She listens to his rantinguntil the bottom falls out.
Trepidation builds inside me, and I don’t know what to expect at the final
rewards ceremony.

Blurb
from One Night in Havana:

A desperate competition and sizzling attraction leads
to dangerous desire.

New York Marine biologist Veronica “Roni” Keane is
attending the Havana Bay Conference in Cuba. Tomorrow only one grant will be
awarded which willprovide the winner with professional recognition, resources
for a project, and living expenses for two years. She hopes to continue her
deceased father’swork, but smooth operator, Carlos Montoya, has won many
grants in the past.

Carlos, a freelancer for the Havana Port Authority,
works to help protect Havana’s reputation as a bastion of safety. As
international travelers flock to the island, attracted by its 1950’s time-warp
and colonial architecture, the drugbusiness is running rampant, particularly
on Roni’s cruise ship. Something’s not right, and when her scuba tanks are
tampered with, Carlos brings in the military police to investigate. For her
safety, he keeps her close, but he craves her body.

Their attraction leads to a fun night with a bit of
kink. But Roni finds herself in more trouble than she bargained for when the
criminals blame her for alerting the military police and come looking for her.
Can Roni trust Carlos to protect her? Will she stay in Havana if Carlos wins
the coveted grant, or kiss her lover goodbye?

Excerpt
from One Night in Havana::

Chapter One

“Why, Veronica Keane.” A voice
heavy with a Spanish accent drawled from behind her. “A dive bar?” A taunting tsk. “What do we have? A slumming New
Yorker?”

She stiffened and closed her
eyes. She knew that voice and its owner, Dr. Carlos Montoya, a finalist like
her, competing for the same damn grant at the biggest Cephalopoda conference of the decade. Herheart pitter-pattered against her ribs. To turn toward him would intimate
distress, or worse yet, weakness. She wouldn’t fail to win this grant, not when
she was a final contender. “I like this funky little place.” Sia Macario Café,
smack in the center of Havana, allowed her to observe locals and their daily lives.

“You need to eat with all the
mojitos you’ve downed.” The big tease wasn’t counting. This was her first
drink, but his rumbling, sexy timbre hinted at all kinds of dark, hot promises.
She’d rubbed shoulders with the Cuban scientist all week. This splendid
specimen of Latin male brought on a physical ache that punched low.

A flare-up stirred fear. For her
own good, she needed to resist. “I ordered camarones
enchiladas.” By now she knew the menu on the chalkboard by heart. She
tipped her head back to whiff grilled shrimp soon to arrive in sofrito sauce
with fried sweet plantains.

“The flan is good. Just like my abuela makes.”

“I bet. Your grandmother would
be happy to hear that,” she said, knowing he brought out the best in most
people. Two days ago he'd invited her and a handful of others scuba diving. The
chance to ogle him had been one of the perks. He’d worn nothing but swim
trunks, his bare chest on display. Every glistening muscle was finely etched.
Not a drop of fat on him. Since he’d not given her the time of day, she’d
checked him out without him noticing.

The hard-bodied host had led the
way toward habitats of soft-bodied creatures. To find where invertebrates lived
was never an easy task. Octopuses squeezed into narrow passages of coral for
protection and gave females a place to keep their eggs. She’d discovered the
remains of a few meals nearby. Octopuses scattered rocks and shells to help
them hide.

This grant meant so much to her and no doubt
to him as well. Veronica mindlessly toyed with the gold necklace around her
neck, but anxiety crackled through her brain. Unlike this man of action, she
lacked the flamboyant personality necessary to talk people into things. Carlos
had that ability. He'd made friends with judges on board while she’d conversed
with an older woman about a box of scones made with Cuban vanilla cream.

That day the wind had picked up
to a gale force, and this woman named Bela with Lucille Ball red hair needed
help walking to her home. The half mile down the seaside promenade, The Malecón, had provided
her with time to practice her Spanish. Turned out Bela was Carlos’s
grandmother. She’d worked as a maid when the Castro government came to power. When
private homes were nationalized, titles were handed over to the dwelling
occupants. Bela owned a crumbling home in the respected Verdado district and
rented out rooms.

What Veronica detested about
Carlos was his abnormal level of talent for schmoozing. Not that he wasn't
charismatic; he drew her like a powerful magnet with emotions hard to untangle.
Why was a self-assured woman who ran her own life thinking about a man who
commanded everyone around him?

She inhaled a breath and turned
around on the barstool, caught fast by a gut punch of Carlos Montoya in the
flesh. She sighed and surrendered to the tendrils of want, sliding up between
her thighs.

Tall and muscular, his lush dark
hair curled to his collar giving him a wild, roguish appearance. His face was
lean and chiseled. His mouth full and tempting. His eyes the smoky-gray of a
grass fire and fringed with black lashes as dense as paintbrushes. He smiled. A
faint hint of mockery curved his mouth, a sensual mouth she imagined to be
either inviting or cruel. Or both at the same time when he leaned over a woman
with a diamond-hard gleam in his dark eyes while she drowned with pleasure. She
fought a fierce desire to run her hand across his broad chest, tip her face
upward, and…

His breath tickled her face.

Not
going there.
She blinked and forced her mind to focus. Carlos Montoya wasnot the kind of
man you lost focus around. But that image of putting her mouth full on his and
peeling away his shirt once introduced in her mind was impossible to expunge.
Pointless even to try.

He was an intimidating blend of
intellect and sexy danger. Both qualities had her leaning back against the
bar’s edge. If it weren’t for him, she’d have a chance at winning the grant.

His lips twitched. “You’re
staying on one of the cruise ships, am I right?” Herolled up the sleeves of
his linen jacket to reveal a dusting of manly hair.

”Yes." Her cabin served as
her hotel room while attending the January meetings with perfect high-seventies
temperatures. His eyes locked with hers. She willed herself to move and yet she
remained seated, clutching heat between her legs, a wetness so intense that her
breath stalled in her chest while her heart hammered faster. Soon she’d return
to freezing New York City.

“So, Bonita, give.” He slid onto the bar stool next to her. “What brings
you down from a lofty ship to grace us lowly Cubans with your presence?”

Bonita. Pretty lady was not an
endearment coming from the mouth curved in ataunting smile, but not a slight
either. Not with his deep, melodic voice speakingwords as if he knew secrets
about her. What secrets did he know? Would he pry into her personal life? She
doubted this bad-boy college professor acknowledgedboundaries.

“Just drinks and dinner.” She
scrambled for composure. “Aren’t we attending a world-class conference? I find
the local population to be friendly and kind. That’s not slumming.”

The bartender set down a saoco. “Hope you like it, senorita.”

“Gracias,” she said. “Very nice,
served in a coconut.”

“Ah, the saoco,” Carlos said.
“Rum, lime juice, sugar, and ice. The saoco,” he repeated, disbelief heavy in
his words. “Um. Wow. Once used as a tonic for prisoners of the revolution.”

“Medicinal?” She couldn’t help
it. She chuckled and sounded as if a rusty spoon had scraped her throat raw, but
it was genuine. The warm glow in its wake was welcome and needed.He leaned an elbow on the bar,
his beer bottle with the green-and-red Cristal label dangling between his
fingers. “Be careful with that one.” He dipped his head toward the front door as
if he needed to go somewhere soon.

That fast, the glow snuffed out.
She cleared her throat and gripped the fuzzysurface of the coconut container.

He placed a five-peso coin with
a brass plug on the counter and whirled it. The spinning motion mirrored a dizzying
attraction going on in low parts of her belly.

She cleared her wayward mind and
nodded toward artwork on the opposite wall. “I plan to buy a painting tonight.”

“Don’t buy anything unless the
seller gives you a certificate. You’ll need one totake art from Cuba. Artists
deal in euros in case you don’t have pesos.”

She’d come prepared but said,
“Thanks for the info.”

His coal-black eyes widened as
he gazed from her head down to the tiny straps around her ankles as if she wore
high heels and nothing else. “You give off a Barbie doll image,” he replied and
stood up.

“Huh?”

“Where’s Ken, anyway? Kenneth
Morton. He came with you to the talks inAntarctica. Five years ago.” He
grinned, and the mortification in her belly gave way to a longing which she had
no business feeling toward her competitor.

“Ken and I broke up.” She hesitated
for a moment. “You have a gift for remembering names. Like a salesman.”

“A person’s name is, to that
person, the most important and sweetest sound. Back then I introduced myself to
Ken in the men’s room.”

“I remember now. Didn’t you give
a talk on a specialized pigment in theoctopus?”

“Ahh, si.” He splayed his
fingers over his chest. “A pigment in their blood is—”

“—called hemocyanin. Turns their blood blue
and helps them survive subfreezing temperatures. Were you awarded something?”

“The antifreeze protein grant?
No. It went to a deep-diving photographer. He wasn’t chicken about getting lost
or trapped under the ice.”

She slid from her stool and
strutted around, jutting her chin in and out like a chicken. “Bock, bock, bock, bock, bock, begowwwwk.”

He chuckled.
“Cute chicken dance. Very cute in that skimpy black dress.”

Her cheeks
heated, and she clutched her necklace. He’d seen plenty of women in
body-fitting attire. In Cuba, women wore dresses to meetings. If she'd harnessed
sexier mojo, she’d have livened up presentations. Her presentationswith an
abundance of dull data went south. She slid
back against her stool and clutched her purse to her stomach as if the small
satin bag could calm the nerves playing deep down kickball. She belonged in her
tidy New York office filled with computers, modems, and research manuals. Not
in this softly lit café where passion oozed from a man’s pores, and artists
displayed their canvases. Here was where Havana’s trendsetters congregated, and
Ernest Hemingway wrote about desire.

“Good luck
with your purchases, Veronica Keane.”

Okay, so they weren’t going to
pretend they were going head to head for the grant.

As if he had more to say, he
grinned at her, his perfect white teeth flashing.. “Do you find us different,
like apples and oranges?”

“What am I, an apple or an
orange?”

“Hmm. You’re an apple.” He was
doing that sexy voice thing which made her brain shut down. Heady.

It started with an unexpected
spark, an instant attraction, the jolting jab of oh-I’m-feeling-something.
Something like a flashfire in her belly, but now they were talking. “Am I the
apple of desire? Want to take a bite out of me?” She pulled in a breath. Had
she really said that?

“Bonita, do I ever.”

“Tomorrow is the final
ceremony.” Would she watch him walk to the podium to accept the grant?

Buy link for One Night in Havana

Amazon Buy Link

Kathleen will be awarding 3 lucky winners a $10
Amazon Gift Certiticate. Winners will be chosen randomly with Rafflecopter.
Please use the Rafflecopter below to enter. Remember you may increase your
chances of winning by visiting the other tour stops. You may find those
locations here.

Tuesday, January 30, 2018

We’re writers, and the saying
is ‘butt in chair and write.’ So, we sit down and write, sometimes for hours.

This is called a static
unmoving situation and can translate into immobility of joints and tension on
the muscles that support those joints.

I’m guilty of this and
thought my stiffness was just part of getting old.

The biggest thing to help to
prevent the stiffness is small breaks. I set a timer for every hour. Then
I get up and take a walk. You can also stretch, do a five minute workout,
whatever works for you. as long as you're moving those joints.

This will help bring mobility
back to the joints and stretch the muscles.

It’s also important to
increase your activity when you finish writing; workout at the gym, take a yoga
class or try Tai chi. These will help counter the time spent in one position,
hunched over the computer.

You can also change the way
you write. I know someone who uses a standing desk because of her back. There
are other ergonomic desks you can try. Or use a fitness ball. It’s fairly
inexpensive, helps with your core muscles and gets you moving a little more
than a regular chair.

You can also buy fitness ball chairs.
(Who knew?)

If
you're using a ball, keep your feet flat on the floor and you should be at eye
level with your computer screen.

Whatever works for you, but
you still need to take those breaks.

I’m
bouncing along as I write this blog. I prefer it to the standard chair.
And my timer just went so I’m off for a short walk to get more coffee. Anyone
want to join me?

Wednesday, January 24, 2018

Madison Michaeltraded 28 years in Fortune 500 tech
and management positions for a chance to spend her days with sassy heroines,
sexy, rich heroes, and nothing but happy endings. Growing up the daughter of a
librarian, she learned to love books, especially classics and romances, and
spent winters cuddled under blankets losing herself in books.

Madison is the author of
three novels in the Beguiling Bachelor series, as well as several short
stories. She is a member of Romance Writers of America.

After living in the
northeast, southeast and the west, Maddy returned to her Midwest roots. She
lives in Evanston, IL with two feline editorial assistants and great views of
Chicago’s famous skyline.

Character Interview

Interviewer:What’s your name?

Matthew:Matthew Herrington

Interviewer:Where
did you grow up?

Matthew:Just
outside San Francisco in the fabulous town of Burlingame CA.

Interviewer:During what time period does your story take
place?

Matthew:This
story takes place from 1950 to the present.

Interviewer:What’s
your story/back story? Why would someone come up with a story about you?

Matthew:I
am really just your average guy, I have no idea why Madison thought I was worth
a story. Well that is, until a special winter night in Chicago when my world
went topsy-turvy. I don’t want to give too much away, but if you ever get a
chance to experience a Thursday “Swing Night” at The Green Mill Lounge, don’t
pass it up.

Interviewer: What’s your goal in this story?

Matthew:I
have met a special girl, Patty Dennisen, and I want to win her heart. I would
love to learn a few spiffy dance moves too.

Interviewer: What conflicts are you facing?

Matthew:Well,
it’s as if Patty and I lived in two different worlds – literally. This is a
huge obstacle for us to overcome.

Interviewer: Do you have a plan for resolving them?

Matthew:Patty
and I are trying to work things out but it doesn’t look good.

Interviewer: Is there anything else you’d like us to know
about you?

Matthew:I
always loved traveling, but when I became a consultant I discovered the lonely
side of traveling for work. So be patient and kind if you meet someone
traveling for business. Remember they are far from friends, family, and home.

Blurb
from Our Love is Here to Stay:

Thirty-year old Matthew Herrington is weary of solo
nights in strange cities. He is ready for a change. And that is exactly what he
gets when he steps into Swing Night at The Green Mill and is instantly immersed
in the sights and sounds of another era. Intrigued by the club’s authenticity,
Matthew is enchanted when he meets Patty, a mixture of sexy and sweet who
steals his heart.

Patty Dennison has never met a man like Matthew in
all her twenty-one years. A sophisticated man, he stands out from the usual Swing
Night crowd. He is self-assured, smart, charming, and handsome as hell, even if
he is a lousy dancer. Once he takes her in his arms, Patty is more than willing
to give him a few dance lessons along with her heart.

Repeated missed dates and unanswered phone calls
strain the relationship and frustrate the pair. But unraveling their mystery
exposes an impossible scenario, one that will torment their sanity and test
their love.

How can they make their fairytale last? Can love
transcend time?

Excerpt
from Our Love is Here to Stay:

A waitress came
to take it off his hands. “Another?” she queried, and he nodded agreement,
placing a crumpled dollar on her tray. “Too much,” she told him shaking her
head no. Matthew was surprised by her response, but the tray was covered with
loose change, so he removed his bill and left the equivalent in quarters.
Everything was so inexpensive, but the server still needed to make a decent
living.

She gave him a
grateful smile and turned to move to her next customer, carefully balancing her
tray above the heads of the young people around her. In the process, she nudged
Matthew slightly causing him to lose his footing and fall gently against
another body. Turning to apologize he found himself staring into the clearest,
lightest blue eyes he had ever seen. He couldn’t look away.

“Sorry,” he
mumbled when he finally regained his composure.

“That’s okay,”
she replied with a quick, bright smile. She was lovely, in a wholesome girl
next door way. She had her blond hair pulled into a ponytail that curled like a
hair product ad, clear-skinned cheeks that were pink with warmth and perhaps
exertion, and a curvy body displayed under a bright red sweater and a flared
plaid skirt.

Matthew felt his
mouth go dry and his palms get sweaty. She did something to him, this fresh-faced
woman that he found incredibly sexy. Her red lipstick was a slash of bright
color mimicking the red of the sweater. Until this moment, bright red lipstick
screamed “tough broad, stay away” to Matthew but on this girl it whispered
“come hither.”

“Matthew,” he
squeaked out, extending his hand to shake hers. Thinking twice about it, he
retracted his arm, running his palm against his pants swiftly, and hopefully
surreptitiously, before he extended his hand again.

“Patty,” she
responded, placing her soft fingers in his large palm. She shook like a girl.
After all the bone-breaking handshakes Matthew had endured across the globe,
this limp, fingers-only shake surprised him. She looked athletic, not tough but
toned, and not sickly pale like most Chicagoans in winter. The handshake didn’t
match the image and normally would have bothered him. Nothing about Patty
bothered him. Everything about her bothered him.

A CHRISTMAS ANTHOLOGY

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Bake, Love, Write

About Me

I'm a Canadian author who writes murder, mystery, medical thrillers, romantic suspense, often set in Montana on a ranch. I recently dived into self-publishing and I love the challenge. It's exciting. Hunted was my first novel, then Missing and Targeted, the third in the series, set in Montana. Another series about an assistant PI, A Cruise to Remember and A Murder to Forget . By Design, on cloning. And I'm working on Death Southern Style set in New Orleans. I'm hoping to finish it by the end of September. Check them out and let me know what you think.